The Blake Adventures: All the Live-Long Day
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Fresh from their honeymoon, Jean and Lucien arrive home to the alleged murder of a railroad worker. Everyone has a motive and everyone has an alibi. But there may be more to the mystery, and there may be more to the adjustment to married life than either of the Blakes were prepared for.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blake Adventures: All the Live-Long Day**

 _January 1960_

"Lucien, stop it!" Jean hissed, trying desperately not to laugh.

He'd grown familiar with that tone of her voice by now. She didn't really want him to stop. Well, she did, but only because she knew it wasn't proper for her to enjoy things so much.

"This honeymoon isn't over until we decide it is," he growled in response.

A cross between a shriek and a giggle escaped her lips as he grabbed her knee in the back of the cab. The driver glanced in his mirror to the couple in his backseat and smiled; Mrs. Beazley—now Mrs. Blake—was a friend of his wife's from church, and it was nice to see her so happy after so long as a widow.

Jean buried her face in Lucien's shoulder, embarrassed at the noise she'd made, and trying desperately to rebuild a façade of propriety now that they'd returned to Ballarat. But, she reminded herself, they were married now. So long as they didn't make an inappropriate scene, as Lucien was wont to do, nothing mattered anymore. The most anyone in town could say was that they were like teenagers in love. And they were. This was just like the week they'd had in Adelaide, holding hands and kissing as they pleased. But now, they'd spent a week in a hotel in Melbourne doing quite a lot more than just holding hands and kissing. It made Jean blush to even think about it.

Lucien silently begged the cab to drive slower. He didn't want to get home. Not just yet. He didn't want to go back to everyday life so soon. He wanted more time in their happy newlywed bubble. But he knew that this, like all good things, must come to an end at some point. And it would be nice to really explore their new married life together. Lucien had imagined what it would be like to be married to Jean, letting the comforting thought sing him to sleep in the nights leading up to the wedding. He'd never have to sleep in that bed alone ever again. Lucien sighed happily and pressed a kiss to his wife's temple.

Eventually the cab did park in front of the Blake house. "Home sweet home," Lucien murmured. Jean nodded and smiled in agreement. He paid the driver and carried their cases to the front door.

Jean paused before going inside. She looked at Lucien. "It's strange…I feel as though I'm walking into this house for the first time all over again. As though it hasn't been my home for years."

"Well, it is still your home, and it always will be. But I'm afraid you'll have to share a bed from now on. I hope that won't be a problem," he teased.

She laughed, "I think we'll manage."

"Oh we'll do better than manage," he replied suggestively. She blushed again, which made him laugh.

Jean opened the front door and found Mattie in the hallway on the telephone. She smiled brightly and waved. "They _just_ walked in the door…Yes, he's right here. I'll put him on." Mattie held out the receiver. "Welcome home, all. Lucien, you're needed on the phone. It's Charlie."

Lucien took the phone from Mattie but gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before answering. "Hello, Charlie?"

Jean and Mattie hugged happily. It had only been a week, but Lucien knew Jean had missed Mattie. They both had. He smiled, watching them. His two favorite girls.

"Doc?"

The voice in his ear startled him a bit. "Sorry, yes, I'm here." Lucien turned away so he could pay attention to what Charlie was telling him.

"We've had a death at the train station. One of the railway workers. I wasn't sure when you'd be returning but I guess you're home. Do you think you could come down? I know Dr. Harvey is covering for you while you're gone, but I've got a feeling you'll want to handle this one," Charlie explained.

"And why is that?"

"The man was hit by a train, and it looks like there's a good chance he was pushed."

Lucien's eyes went wide. At least he could prepare for the carnage he was sure to be examining. "I'll be right down."

"Alright, but it might take you a bit. It's a mob down here. I'm surprised you didn't come find us when your train came in from Melbourne. Didn't you notice the traffic and the police cars?"

"Erm…no, no we didn't," Lucien replied awkwardly. He wasn't about to tell Sergeant Davis that he'd been too busy kissing his wife breathless in the last moments of their train trip to notice anything else. Their compartment could have been on fire, and he wouldn't have noticed. "But I'm on my way now."

When Lucien hung up the phone, Jean was standing nearby, watching him. "Back to work?"

"Ah, yes, actually. There's been a death at the train station. Jean would you like to come with me?" he asked. The thought flew into his head unexpectedly. She'd joined him on investigations before and had always been extremely helpful. And, truth be told, he didn't really want to leave her.

"Come with you to see to a body? No, thank you."

"You wouldn't be examining the body with me. You could just…come along for the drive."

"I have some unpacking to do, and I'd like to move as many of my things as I can out of my old room. Besides, I can't imagine what state the house is in after an entire week of Mattie and Charlie on their own," she added, looking pointedly to the young woman beside her.

Mattie just mumbled, "We did our best."

So Lucien grabbed his medical bag and the keys to the car, and he turned right around and drove back to the train station. On the way, the thought about what Jean had said, about needing to stay home to see to the house. She wasn't his housekeeper anymore. That wasn't her job. Lucien was suddenly concerned about what sort of household dynamic there would be now. Obviously he wouldn't be paying her each week anymore. Should they hire another housekeeper?

But his thoughts were interrupted when he turned onto the road for the train station. Charlie had been correct about the traffic and crowd. It took some maneuvering to find a feasible place to park and make his way to the police officers.

Chief Superintendent Frank Carlyle found him first. "Welcome back, Dr. Blake. Sorry we couldn't let you ease back in after your vacation," he apologized, shaking Lucien's hand.

"Quite alright, Frank. These things rarely occur at a convenient time. What have we got?"

Frank let Lucien to where the body lay. "Railway worker Randall Brix. The call came in to us about an hour ago. We're hoping you can tell us how long he's been here like this."

It was just as gruesome as Lucien had imagined. Getting hit by a train was nasty business. "Charlie said there was some evidence he may have been pushed?" Lucien asked as he made an initial examination.

"In preliminary interviews, we've learned that three people found him and didn't call it in. The one who did was the station supervisor, who came out to look for Brix when he missed his mandatory lunch break."

"I'll need to do some tests in the lab to know for sure. But it's been at least a few hours. And I don't think Mr. Brix died on impact. These injuries weren't fatal until later. He lay dying for quite a while," Lucien said gravely. He stood up from where he was kneeling beside the body. "The body can go to the morgue. Let Dr. Harvey know I'm on my way."

Lucien went straight to see Alice upon leaving the train station. She was waiting for him with a cross look on her face. "Good afternoon," he greeted warily.

"What are you doing here?" she asked accusingly.

"I thought we'd be doing the autopsy on Mr. Brix," he replied, confused at her obvious ire.

Alice crossed her arms, brow furrowed in annoyance. "I cannot believe you left your honeymoon to see to a body. I consider you a friend, Dr. Blake, and I quite like and respect you. But that new wife of yours is far too good for you, and this is how you treat her barely a week after the wedding? Shame on you!"

"Hang on, I didn't leave my honeymoon! We returned home and Charlie called the house! And I asked Jean if she wanted to come with me!" Lucien defended.

"You asked if she wanted to come with you to see to a body? My god, however did you convince her to marry you?" Alice interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Well, even if you didn't leave your honeymoon, you weren't due to be back at work until tomorrow. And even if the police won't respect that, I certainly will. I'll do the preliminary tests. Mr. Brix will be here for you in the morning. You go home and see your lovely wife."

Lucien had no intention of fighting Alice's command. He thanked her and drove right back home.

He found Jean in the kitchen, a very familiar sight. She was surprised to see him. "I didn't think you'd be home tonight. You usually go straight to the autopsy after the crime scene," she commented.

"Alice insisted I come home. I hope you don't mind."

She glanced to the doorway, which was empty, and walked over to Lucien, giving him a kiss. "I'm actually quite glad you're back. I didn't want to have to get used to you being gone just yet." She turned back to the stove. "Besides," she said over her shoulder, "I'm making something rather special for dinner, seeing as it's our first night back."

He came to join her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, it smells delicious." He pressed his nose to her neck and breathed in deeply. "Mmm, heavenly."

"I think you're smelling me, not the food," she pointed out.

"Either way." Lucien commenced kissing up and down every part of her neck he could reach.

The sound of a throat clearing caused Lucien to practically leap off of Jean like a cat getting sprayed with water. Upon seeing that reaction, Mattie stifled a giggle. "I thought I heard Lucien come home, so I wanted to say hello," she explained.

"You two go catch up in the parlor. I'll let you know when dinner's ready," Jean told them.

Mattie told Lucien about the patients she'd been working with over the last week and kept him abreast of all that was happening in Ballarat. She'd missed their evening chats. Mattie always felt that she learned more just sitting and talking with Lucien than she ever had in school or in her nursing training.

Charlie came home just in time to change out of his uniform before dinner. The four of them all sat around the kitchen table, as though nothing had changed in the last week. But Lucien took Jean's hand discreetly and caressed the wedding band on her finger. When she'd finally removed her first wedding ring, he got an electric jolt every time he noticed her bare left hand. But when he'd gotten to place his mother's diamond ring on her finger, everything changed. This wedding ring was from _him_. It was _theirs_. Somehow, he still couldn't quite believe that Jean was his wife. It just seemed too good to be true.

Jean smiled, avoiding making eye contact with him. She knew without a doubt that if she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to remain civilized at the dinner table. After a whole week of being with him, she'd gotten used to acting on romantic impulses. It was a habit she hated to break. A familiar warm tingling began deep in her belly, and Jean shifted in her chair, hoping it would go away before anyone noticed that her cheeks were growing pink and her eyes were starting to lose the ability to focus.

But Lucien noticed. He gave her hand a small squeeze. She should have known. Lucien always noticed. He was useless at noticing some things, but this…this he certainly paid attention to.

Under the table, Lucien subtly kicked Charlie's foot. The young policeman immediately got the message. "Mattie, how about you and me clear up the dishes? Mrs. Blake went to all that trouble to make this wonderful dinner, and it's the newlyweds' first night back."

Lucien just nodded to him in quiet thanks.

Jean, still unable to even look in the direction of her husband, said, "Lucien, would you mind helping me carry the last few things out of my old room?"

"Of course," he replied, following her quickly out of the kitchen. He heard the faint sound of Mattie snickering as he left.

In the dim light of the staircase, Jean finally turned back to Lucien. Without a word, she pulled him into a hard, fiery kiss. He was eager to participate. Their methods were well-practiced now. The way his tongue would gently trace her bottom lip. The way her teeth would graze his mustache. The way they would each breathe through noses smashed against the other's cheek.

Lucien's hands immediately grazed down Jean's waist to her hips, clutching at the fabric of her skirt and jerking it up as far as he could. And before she could scold him for it, he reached under her bum and lifted her up. Jean instinctively wrapped her legs around him and continued the unbroken rhythm of the kiss.

They didn't break apart until Lucien leaned forward slightly and bumped Jean's back against the wall. The loud thud jolted Jean back to reality. "Ow," she whispered breathlessly.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry!" he whispered back. He allowed Jean to return to her feet on the floor, where she immediately pulled her skirt back down.

She pressed her lips together in an overly-excited smile. Jean took Lucien by the hand and hurried into the bedroom they now shared.

As soon as the door closed, they were on each other again. "You are," Lucien murmured between kisses, "absolutely insatiable."

"It's your own fault," she told him, throwing his waistcoat onto the floor and trying to loosen his tie and undo the buttons on his shirt simultaneously. "You made me want you like this."

"Do you want me, Jean?" he asked.

"More than anything," she breathed.

"Show me what you want." He reclaimed her lips once again.

They stumbled backward to the bed, causing Lucien's knees to buckle on the edge. He fell into a seated position, forcing them to break apart.

Jean stood over him, a wry smile on her face. She knelt down onto her knees between his legs and unbuckled his belt with deft hands. Lucien watched her in awe, unsure of what she was about to do. Her nimble fingers freed him from his trousers, stroking his near-hardness. Before he could really prepare himself, she leaned forward and took him in her mouth. His head rolled back on his neck and he groaned loudly. She lifted her head to tell him to keep quiet and then returned to her focused task. Her lips and tongue washed over him, up and down, over and over, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy. He knew he wouldn't last long if she continued, so he summoned his strength to take her free hand from his knee and pull her up from the ground.

She stood and pushed her hair back from her face, smiling proudly at the obvious effect she'd had on him. After a week of Lucien bringing her to an unhinged state of passion, it was exciting to be able to do the same to him.

Lucien removed his half-unbuttoned shirt and kicked off his trousers and socks. He was distracted, however, by watching Jean undress in front of him. She removed her underthings expertly and let them fall on the floor. She stood before him, beautifully naked. He stared at her, his eyes taking in every inch of her body. All the lines and freckles and curves and angles. It had only been a week, but he wanted to memorize her as soon as he possibly could.

Jean moved towards him, running her hands across his shoulders and chest, dragging her fingers from his collarbone, down to his hips. Lucien pulled her to him for another kiss, turning them around so her back was to the bed. He let her fall back onto the comforter before climbing on top of her, positioning himself between her legs and propping himself up on his arms.

"I want you now," she whispered.

Eager to acquiesce, Lucien placed his hand between her legs so he could prepare her for him. He was surprised to find that she was already wet and ready. "My goodness, I seem to have had an effect on you," he said with a smirk.

"Having an effect on you has quite the effect on me," she told him.

Not needing any further invitation, Lucien entered her. Slowly. Savoring every small movement. She impatiently wiggled beneath him, but he maintained his pace. He pulled all the way out and repeated the same excruciating pace.

"Please, Lucien," she begged.

He leaned over to kiss her, this time tenderly and sweetly. "Anything for you, love," he breathed.

From there, he sped up his pace to an almost frantic level, pounding into her. Jean's breath turned to quick panting, emitting a sharp, involuntary squeak in rhythm to his thrusts. Her hands grabbed at the bedsheets, clutching anything she could reach. It didn't take long before she was on the brink of climax, mouth open and body trembling and shuddering beneath him. He didn't slow. She didn't even have a chance to recover before he brought her to climax again. She bit down on her own tongue to keep from screaming. Lucien finished shortly thereafter, kissing her deeply to keep from being too loud himself.

He nearly passed out mid-kiss. His entire body was slick with sweat and he could barely breathe. All energy he'd possessed had been expelled. Lucien needed a moment before he could roll off her.

Jean didn't mind the weight of him one bit. She loved to have him on top of her and still inside her after they finished making love. She wanted to keep the closeness of him as long as possible. She stroked his hair and traced the scars on his back in a soothing manner.

Eventually he was able to move again and regain the power of speech. "Where did you learn that?" he asked, still amazed at what she'd done. As soon as he asked the question he realized he didn't want to know the answer.

But Jean replied, "You aren't the only one who reads books, Dr. Blake."

Whether or not she had really learned that from a book, he was glad he was the one who got to benefit from her skill.

"I hope no one heard us," she thought aloud. "We need to be better about being quiet now that we're back home and living with two other people."

"We're newlyweds. Everyone knows what we're doing and no one could blame us for it."

"Yes, but at our age, Lucien…"

He scoffed, "People half our age wouldn't be capable of the things we just did."

"Perhaps, but we still should be aware of what Mattie and Charlie see and hear around the house."

Lucien nodded. "Whatever you say, dear."

Jean began to chuckle. "You sounded just like an exhausted husband just then."

"I am an exhausted husband. Tired out from satiating my wife."

She grinned proudly. His wife. It was still thrilling to hear. "Get under the covers and rest. I'm going to have a quick bath to clean up a bit, and then I'll be back to join you."

He just nodded sleepily as he tried to pull the bedsheets down and get underneath them without actually getting up.

Jean waited until he was settled and kissed his forehead. "Welcome home, love."


	2. Chapter 2

Lucien woke extremely early the next morning. He gently kissed his wife, careful not to wake her, before quietly dressing for the day and leaving for work. He wanted to get to the morgue to examine the body of Randall Brix. Alice surely had done most of the work the day before, but he had his own methods he wanted to utilize, and he wanted as much time as he could get to conduct his tests.

Alice arrived about an hour after he did. She shared her earlier findings, which coincided with the conclusions he'd come to. They finished the autopsy and tests together and drafted the report for the police.

As was usual when he was personally interested in a case, Lucien went to the police station to deliver the report himself. Frank Carlyle preferred this method, as it allowed him to ask any questions to the doctor right then and there. Though it did invite the good doctor to be more involved in the case than he was perhaps supposed to be. Nevertheless, there had yet to be a case in Ballarat that Dr. Blake hadn't been able to solve, so Frank let it slide.

Lucien remained at the station for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon. The police had brought in a number of suspects, so Lucien decided to sit in on the interviews, listening quietly and carefully. Every single person gave a clearer picture of what had happened to Randall Brix, yet further obscured the mystery.

At long last, the final interview was complete. Lucien looked at his watch and realized that he'd not only skipped breakfast that morning but he'd completely missed lunch. He immediately hurried home.

He found Jean, once again, in the kitchen. This time she was scrubbing an enormous pile of dishes. Suddenly he was distracted from everything else and was fixated on her unending household chores.

"Jean, what are you doing?"

She turned her head to look at him with confusion. "I'm washing dishes," she replied, stating the obvious.

"You shouldn't be doing that."

"Mattie and Charlie are unfortunately not to be trusted in the kitchen without supervision, it seems," she replied with a sigh, returning to her task.

"No, I mean…Jean, you're my wife now."

"Yes, I know. I've been enjoying it so far," she teased.

Lucien sighed. He wasn't getting his point across. "The lady of the house doesn't do dishes. You aren't the housekeeper anymore. And if things need doing, we can certainly hire someone to come in to do that."

Her eyes went wide, and she turned off the sink to turn to him. She opened her mouth to shout but quickly closed it, changing her mind. No, she'd see where this was going before she shouted at him. "If we hire someone to do all the work I usually do, what do you suppose I'll do with my time?"

"I don't know, anything you want, I suppose," he said, thinking of this for the very first time. "You like volunteering for the church. Or you could be more active in the dramatic society. Anything you like." Lucien saw her eyes narrow dangerously and began backtracking his statements. "Or…if you'd prefer, you can still work. I don't mind. If a job would make you happy, you should do that."

"Lucien, I know your first married life was very different, when you were an officer in Singapore, and you had a house full of staff, but I certainly didn't. I've always worked, be it in the fields of the farm or here in this house. And I have no intention of changing that." Her tone was quite definitive.

"Yes, but Jean, you don't work for me anymore. You're my wife!"

"And I should act like it, is that it?" she fired back accusingly.

"No, it isn't that, it's that I don't want you to feel like a housekeeper! Especially since I'm not going to be paying you anymore. You shouldn't be doing the same job without pay when you could be doing anything else you could possibly want!" Lucien let out a huff of air, satisfied that he'd finally found the words to express what was bothering him.

Jean's expression sharpened. She hadn't actually thought about the fact that she wouldn't be paid anymore. During their engagement, he'd continued to pay her wages each week. She'd been so focused on the wedding and the honeymoon that she hadn't considered how things would change—really change—when they were married. Lucien was absolutely correct, he shouldn't be paying her as an employee anymore. But the money…that may prove to be an awkward situation. Jean had never had to ask for money before. Most wives had to ask their husbands for money, she knew, but she'd been financially independent for such a long time. It would be a difficult habit to break.

Lucien waited for her to respond. She seemed mildly frozen in place. "Jean?" he checked tentatively.

She blinked rapidly and turned back to her dishes. "We can work out the finer points later, but I will not have you hire another housekeeper. I'll continue on as I have. If I'm the lady of the house, I'll be the one to take care of the house." And with that, the subject was closed. Tension hung in the room between them. Jean took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I assume you worked on your case this morning. What have you found?"

Lucien refocused his attention, glad for the change in topic. He launched into a summary of his morning. "I ran some tests on the body first thing. Blood coagulation and internal organ damage and the like. Randall Brix was hit on his left side by an oncoming train. It eviscerated his arm and shoulder and gave him an extremely nasty blow to the head. The train wasn't going too fast, because he would have died on impact if it had. Instead, he was hit and knocked to the ground on the side of the tracks, which was where he was found after the internal bleeding killed him."

"Do you know what train hit him? Because if you know what time he died, you can match it with the railway schedule," Jean suggested.

He nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what we did. Frank had already gathered the timetables for the day, and once Alice and I pinned down a time of death, and I delivered the report to the police, we figured out what train had hit him. So all morning, Bill and Ned and Charlie brought in every single suspect for interview."

"You sat in, I assume?"

"Yes. And it had a somewhat unexpected outcome, actually."

"Oh?" she asked curiously.

"We spoke to the supervisor who found the body and called the police. He said Brix was generally not well-liked. He had a bit of a temper and a sharp tongue for those around him. No family to speak of, unfortunately. Frank asked for next of kin and the supervisor said there aren't any."

"How very sad," Jean commented.

"Quite. But don't feel too sorry for him. The police brought in three of his coworkers, all of whom would have been in the same area during the time of impact. And they all had the most terrible stories about Brix. How he would shout at them for no reason, criticize their work, make rude comments about their wives and mothers, tell the supervisor about any slight discretion, all sorts of awful things."

Jean frowned. "I see why you're working on the theory that he was pushed. It seems like any one of them would have a motive."

"Ah but that's just the problem," Lucien replied, pointing out the exact issue. "Every single person on duty was somewhere else. All have alibis. A few saw him working in the area before his death. And all of them were later seen by others at the exact time the train went by somewhere else at the station. The three we interviewed at the station were the ones who came across his body after he'd died and done nothing, which is just horrendous. You'd think that alone betrays guilt, but no. Everyone has a motive and everyone has an alibi!"

"No one saw what happened? Not even anyone on the train?"

Lucien shook his head. "No, it was a freighter, so there were only about three people on board. We interviewed the engineer, and he hadn't even realized the train hit anyone. Very sweet young man. Got very upset at the news, feeling horribly guilty that the train he was driving had killed someone. It wasn't his fault, of course. Trains can't just come to a sudden stop, so even if he had seen Brix on the track, the same result would have still occurred."

Jean's brow furrowed as she tried to think of other alternatives. "Is it possible he wasn't pushed?"

"That he threw himself in front of the train?"

"If he was a miserable man with no friends and no family, is it possible that he did commit suicide?" Jean hated to even think such a thing. It was too horrible. But it did seem to be a reasonable alternative.

"That is an interesting idea." His mind began to whirl with possibilities, methods of proving suicide.

Jean watching him for a moment, seeing his vision unfocus as he became lost in thought. She turned back to her remaining dishes with a small smile, content she'd been of some small assistance to the investigation.

The sound of the water brought him back to reality. "Here, why don't you scrub—since you're the only one who does it properly—and I can rinse and dry for you?" he offered.

She gladly accepted his help. The work would go much faster this way, and then they could spend a little time alone before she needed to start dinner.

But it soon became clear that Lucien had no intention of helping her with the dishes in the same way he had before they'd been married. Then, he would make polite conversation and keep a respectful distance between them. Now, he was strangely quiet, and every dish he went to rinse, he took a half-step closer to her. He said nothing about it, making no indication that he was now brushing her arm when he reached to the sink, or that their hips were practically touching from him standing so close. Jean just held her ground, trying not to smile or laugh at his subtle attempts to get close to her. It didn't take him long to cross the line.

He went to dunk one of the last few dishes in the sink and instead let it rest on the bottom of the sink. His hands emerged from the water and came to rest on her hips.

"Lucien!" she shrieked at the sudden wet feeling on her skirt, practically jumping out of her skin.

But he just laughed as he stood behind her and moved his hands up her waist and ribcage, his fingers gently grazing her breasts before following the outline of her body back down to her hips.

"I really do need to finish these dishes," she informed him. But Jean made absolutely no attempt to stop him. When he didn't move away from her, she sighed happily and leaned back against his chest. "I wonder if the novelty will ever wear off," she thought aloud.

"The novelty of being able to touch you and kiss you as I please?"

"Mmm," she confirmed with a contented hum.

"I hope it doesn't wear off. I hope I'm never too used to you. Though I can't see how I ever could be. You surprise me with new, wonderful things all the time."

Her eyebrows went up her forehead. "Are you referring to last night?"

He growled and nibbled lightly on her earlobe. "I don't know that I'll survive many more surprises like that."

Jean laughed, still proud of herself for her bravery. She turned in his embrace and beamed up at him with love and gratitude for allowing her to feel able to do such things with him. She still had wet rubber gloves on her hands from washing the dishes, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He didn't mind the water dripping from the gloves down the back of his jacket, nor did she mind his wet handprints all over her clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Jean, I've got some business at the bank, then I'll be in the morgue all day," Lucien announced, kissing her cheek and dashing out of the house.

"Don't forget, you've got…" She trailed off and sighed, hearing the front door open and close quickly. "Agnes Clasby," she finished. Jean hoped he'd remember that he had a patient later in the day, but if he did forget, she would be able to call him in the morgue and get him to come home.

And sure enough, Agnes arrived, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

"I'm so sorry, Agnes. He's working on a case, you see. He tends to get a bit distracted," Jean apologized.

"Yes, he's always been that way. Even as a boy, he liked to get fixated on things that interested him. Genevieve encouraged it, knowing it was good to cultivate his intellectual pursuits. Thomas had no idea what to do with him, of course. Sent him away most of the time. But it's hard for a parent to be alone in raising a child. You know, Jean. You had your children on your own."

Jean was always taken aback by Agnes Clasby. Agnes always had something fascinating but horribly blunt to say. Even living with Lucien, Jean wasn't quite used to that kind of candor. "Yes, well, my boys were a bit older when Christopher died. Lucien was only ten when he lost his mother."

Agnes nodded. "It'll be different this time around. You'll see soon enough."

"Pardon?" Jean's eyes went wide, unsure if Agnes was really saying what Jean was understanding.

"Yes, when you and Lucien have children."

"Oh…we don't…"

"I know, you're just focused on married life now. You've lived together for years, but this is different, I'm sure. It does seem to suit you though, Jean. And I dare say our Dr. Blake looks just as bright and lovely as you do. It certainly took you two long enough to work it out," Agnes grumbled. "I thought I was going to have to say something if you didn't do something about it soon."

Jean couldn't help a small smile.

Agnes continued, "Absolutely besotted, he was. Always has been and I dare say he always will be. And you, Jean, you take such good care of him. I do wish Thomas could have seen how happy you both have made each other."

"I think in a way, he knew," Jean replied softly, thinking back to those final few weeks of Thomas Blake's life, when she had merely tolerated Lucien's presence in the house. Dr. Blake had asked her to promise to care for his son, to see that he didn't destroy himself. Jean had made the promise to the dying man, not understanding then that it was a promise she'd keep until her own dying day.

"Jean, I think perhaps you should call that husband of yours away from whatever case he's engrossed in. I, unlike his murder victim, am not dead yet. But I soon will be if I can't see my doctor," Agnes insisted.

"Of course. He said he'd be at the morgue seeing to Randall Brix was murdered," Jean answered, standing to go to the phone.

But Agnes continued talking, causing Jean to pause. "Oh that poor Randall Brix. He had such a difficult life. His family lived across the lane from me when he was small, you see. He could barely go to school and never could hold down a job."

"Oh?" Jean was curious now.

"Yes, he had these terrible fits. If lights were too bright or anything was too loud. He'd fall to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Nothing anyone could do for him. Such a tragedy."

Something clicked in Jean's mind. "Agnes, I think I'd better call Lucien right away." She stood up and hurried to the phone, dialing the number for the morgue. It rang twice before Dr. Harvey answered. "Hello, Alice, it's Jean. Could I speak to Lucien, please?"

"He isn't here, I'm afraid."

"When did he leave?"

"About an hour ago. He wanted to look for possible signs of suicide, and couldn't find what he wanted on the body, so he left."

Jean frowned. "He told me he was going to be there. He's late for a surgery appointment."

"Well, he did say he wanted to get a closer look at the train tracks where the deceased was killed. He might be there," Alice suggested.

With a frustrated sigh, Jean thanked Dr. Harvey and hung up the phone. She returned to the reception room. "I'm so sorry, Agnes, I can't seem to locate him. Do you think you could come back tomorrow? I'll make sure he doesn't leave the house. I'll tie him down if I have to!"

"What you do in your married life is of no concern to me," Agnes replied with a wry grin. "I'll be back tomorrow at two."

Jean couldn't even begin to think about the implications of that statement. She had other things on her mind. Since Lucien couldn't be located, she knew she needed to do a little investigating of her own. She went right to Lucien's study and searched the bookshelves for the volumes she thought she'd need. It would be easier to just explain things to him, because he'd know exactly what to look for. But Jean had spent many years working for and with doctors, so she did have some idea.

It took searching the indexes of three different books before she found it. The 'fits' that Agnes had described sounded like the symptoms of epilepsy. And, as she had been hoping, there were often signs of physical abnormalities in the brain that could cause the disorder.

Jean got right back on the phone and called the morgue. "Alice, it's Jean again. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen Randall Brix's medical records."

"No, he didn't have any at the hospital. It seems he never bothered with doctors."

That wasn't surprising. Many of the poorer people in the rural parts of Ballarat avoided doctors if they could. "I wonder if you've looked at his brain at all? Or was it too damaged from the impact of the train?"

Alice's curiosity was piqued. "Jean, what are you looking for?"

"I think Randall Brix had epilepsy. I was just told that he often had fits of uncontrollable shaking when he was a child brought on by loud noise or bright light. I looked in some of Lucien's medical books and found it. Is that at all possible? Is that something you can confirm from an examination?"

"Oh that is brilliant!" Alice exclaimed. "It would make complete sense! He had a seizure, which caused him to fall on the tracks. It wasn't murder and it wasn't suicide. It was just an accident!"

"That's what I was thinking, yes."

"Well your husband is still investigating a suicide angle, so I suggest someone go find him."

"Yes, I'll go to the railyard now."

"And I'll see if I can confirm epilepsy," Alice replied. "If I can, I'll revise my report with the police, so tell Dr. Blake not to bother."

Jean hung up again and raced out the door to go find Lucien.

At the railyard, almost exactly where Randall Brix had been killed, Lucien Blake was conducting an experiment. He was intrigued by the idea of suicide as the true cause of Randall's death. But he was having trouble believing it, given the facts. Randall's body had been hit at a low rate of speed. He was knocked off the track by the front of the train and subsequently died of his injuries. In order for that outcome, he would have had to know when the train was coming and then stand or lay on the tracks. And suicidal or not, it was basic human instinct to do the exact opposite of what Randall had purportedly done.

And so he was testing it out. How close could a train really get without anyone noticing or the potential suicide victim losing nerve?

That was exactly how Jean found him. One of the railroad employees was kind enough to tell her where he'd gone. She'd assumed he would be kneeling beside the tracks, looking at blood spatter or something of the sort. She had not expected him to be standing on the tracks, leaning forward, staring at an approaching train head on.

"Lucien!" she screamed. But he didn't move. All of a sudden, it didn't matter what he was doing or what he was thinking. The train whistle sounded. She realized that he probably couldn't hear her. Jean broke into a run and didn't stop until she grabbed him by the arms and yanked him away.

The train passed by not three seconds after they'd both fallen into the gravel. Jean had landed flat on her bum, while Lucien hadn't been as strategic about his fall. He'd scraped his head on the sharp rocks littering the ground.

He rolled over onto his back. Jean just stared at him as she tried to catch her back. "What on earth are you doing?!" she asked accusingly.

"I was testing to see how close the train would get before the instinct of self-preservation kicked in. I don't think Randall Brix committed suicide. Unless he were passed out on the track, there's no way he could have sustained the injuries he got," Lucien explained.

"He didn't commit suicide. He had epilepsy. At least I think he did. Alice is going to confirm," Jean replied bitterly. "Now get up. You're bleeding. I'm taking you home. You shouldn't be driving with a head injury."

Lucien didn't really like being scolded in such a tone, but Jean was probably right. His temple was stinging something awful.

They were silent in the car. Jean's expression was fixed in anger, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrow. Lucien just sat there, watching her and waiting for some sign of her softening. None came.

Jean marched him right into the surgery when they arrived home. She barely said a word as she cleaned his wound. He winced in pain as the antiseptic stung his cut. "Ah, here, I can do that in a mirror," he tried to insist.

But she jerked her hand away, continuing to dab the cotton on his injured face. "You've done enough today," she snapped. Jean was blinking rapidly and wrinkling her nose. "I cannot..." She paused when her voice cracked. "I cannot believe you would do something so utterly stupid."

Lucien took her hand and held it between his. "Jean," he began softly.

She interrupted, "I don't know why I thought you'd get some sense after we got married. I should have known better. But I cannot be a widow again, Lucien. And if we…" She couldn't bring herself to address Agnes Clasby's mention of children out loud. "I can't lose you, Lucien. I…I love you too much," she admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He took her in his arms and held her close, stroking and nuzzling her hair as she cried. "Oh my darling love, you won't ever lose me. I know I take foolish risks sometimes, but I promise I know what I'm doing. Most of the time. But you are right, I have much more than myself to think of now. I do need to be more careful. Because even if I know what I'm doing, I don't want to worry you. I don't want you to ever worry, Jean." He pressed a reverent kiss to the top of her head. "Actually, hang on…"

Lucien released his embrace on her to go to where he'd tossed his jacket on the table. He took an envelope out of the inner pocket and took several pieces of paper from it.

"I'd like you to sign these, please," he requested.

Jean sniffed back her tears. "What is all this?"

"One is the deed to the house to add your name to it so you'll own half. The others are for all the bank accounts in my name. I've added you to each one. The bank will be printing a checkbook to include you after we return the forms. That way you'll have equal control over the household finances. You've always had your own money, and you're very good with money. Better than I am, I'd imagine. There's no reason you should have to consult me any time you buy something. That would just be tedious for the both of us, I should think. But I still mean what I said, if you want to get a job elsewhere, I hope you will. Any wages you earn are your own, of course."

If only to stop him from blabbering on, Jean immediately kissed him. "Thank you, Lucien," she whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jean. I've waited a lifetime to be married to you, and I intend to enjoy it for a very long time. But just in case anything should happen, you should know you'll be well provided for," he told her.

"I don't want to hear another word about it," she insisted, bending over the desk to sign all the forms he'd provided.

"Then we shan't say another word about it," he agreed. As he gathered all the pages to return them to the bank, he suddenly felt quite dizzy and stumbled a bit.

"Oh I knew you'd hit your head too hard! Straight to bed for you," she instructed.

"Is that right?" He winked suggestively, despite his dizzy spell.

Jean just rolled her eyes. "None of that until you recover. You need your rest."

Lucien nearly passed out as soon as Jean was able to get him into bed. He slept the rest of the day and all through the night. He was awoken the next morning with a gentle kiss. It took him a moment to realize what was going on, but he soon responded eagerly.

"Good morning," Jean whispered, leaving feather kisses on the tip of his nose.

"What a lovely morning it is," he replied, feeling very groggy and very happy.

"If you're feeling up to it, I think you should have a spot of breakfast," she suggested.

He noticed the tray on the dresser nearby. "Breakfast in bed? Am I really in such a dire condition?"

"I certainly hope not. But it is your birthday, so I wanted to do something to mark the occasion," she replied.

"Is it really my birthday?"

Jean laughed. "Yes, Lucien, it is your birthday."

"Does that mean we can do anything I want?" he asked with an excited grin.

"Within reason," she replied with a smirk. Jean knew exactly the kind of things he wanted to do and, assuming he was feeling well enough for it, she had some birthday surprises of her own planned for him.

He chuckled, "Married life is quite wonderful. I can't believe we didn't do this sooner!"

Jean gave him one more kiss. "I quite agree. Agnes Clasby was apparently about to intercede if we didn't do something about it soon."

"Oh no, Agnes!" Lucien exclaimed, realizing he'd completely forgotten about his appointment.

"I've rescheduled her for tomorrow. You're injured, and it's your birthday. You can't possibly see patients today," Jean assured him.

"Quite right." He sighed contentedly. "Did she really say she was going to do something about us?"

"Yes. 'Besotted' is the word she used to describe your behavior toward me."

He nodded. "An apt description indeed. And now, I'd like to be thoroughly besotted with my wife in bed beside me as we have breakfast. And then perhaps we'll stay in bed all day."

"Extending the honeymoon, are we?"

"Well, it is my birthday…"

Jean laughed and kissed him again, this time crawling over her husband to get back in bed beside him.


End file.
